A Willing Heart
by Morrighansmuse
Summary: Without a home to call their own, the young prince Thorin Oakenshield must lead his people through the lands of men as they make their way towards their new home in the Black Mountain. And as he discovers the suspicion and indifference the race of men have for his kind, Thorin also discovers that love can be found in the least likeliest of places.
1. Chapter 1

He came with many others like him, just as the darkness settled upon the city. And just like his kin, he looked tired, his blue robes dusty and dirty, the fur collar that lined outer coat caked with mud.

They'd just gone through a deluge the night before, I heard one of his companions say as they sought shelter for the night. Their eyes looked hollow, as if they'd just stared at death right in the eye and lived to tell the tale. Yet as I watched them walk past my window, I wondered if many of them wished death would have taken them instead of allowing them life without a home to call their own.

For death had had a name. It was Smaug.

The news had reached our small town two weeks earlier, and as soon as the messengers left to spread the news to other neighboring towns, people began to wail in fear, holding on to their children as tightly as they could as they looked to the skies for any sign of the drake from the north. Ears pressed to the ground to listen for the faintest growl of its wings, heart thumping wildly within their chests as their minds drew wild and crazy images of carcasses strewn upon the floor.

But the dragon never came. And why would it?

It had found its new home within the grand halls of Erebor, where these wandering groups of dwarves used to live, their home snatched away from them in a blink of a smoldering eye.

Already there were talk of dwarves descending upon the neighboring towns upon the west of us, searching for shelter and some work to pay for their meager lodgings, some of them forced to live with the animals in barns for there was not enough room to house all of them.

For a proud race, Jürgen, the blacksmith who lived next door to me said one day, they probably do wish death had taken them. For now they come to beg for work and anything else they can get, having had to leave all their treasures behind them when Smaug came.

And then Jürgen continued to pound his hammer upon the smoldering metal before him, the clanging sound echoing throughout the narrow cobblestone courtyard that separated his home from ours. The dwarves were not his problem, he thought, though even he had to admit that he would seek to know more about the ways in which they forged their treasures.

Now while Jürgen's home is large, with stone walls and even a balcony that overlooked the hills beyond the east, ours was quite meager indeed. But what the blacksmith didn't have - a stable - we did, and there we had three ponies of our own, in addition to the ones that travelers often lodged with us for a fee.

For the inn was but a stone's throw away, and travelers always came with horses or ponies, for the most part, and while the innkeeper probably charged way more than he should for the safe-keeping of their animals, we charged him enough to get us by.

For it was just my brother and I in this world, and together we had enough to make for a comfortable life. Bernd usually tended to the animals while I sewed and mended clothing. There was always work to be had mending clothes, for it cost a fortune to always have new ones made. And whatever most of my neighbors had made, they wore till the seams practically tore off their backs.

Such were the times that had befallen most of us.

But there was always time for other things besides just sewing and mending. Sometimes, I helped Bernd with his work in the stables, for I always found the horses most beautiful. They were excellent company after working with fabrics from dawn till dusk, when the fading light proved too weak for my eyes to guide my fingers' way through the stitches along the fabric.

It was a relief to ride the horses out in the plains, always with Bernd by my side, for one never knew who came upon the roads and the spaces that had no roads to speak of. There was always talk of other creatures so unlike us, the same ones who'd taken our parents.  
Mother had taught me how to sew. She taught me how to cut cloth along lines she'd draw on the ground using chalk when I was a little girl, moving onto drawing them on paper, snipping sharp triangles along certain areas to "create shape," she'd say, and distinguish a simple dress from one that wasn't simple at all. "Grand" was the word she used. Ornate was another one.

She'd been a royal tailor and dressmaker when she was a young woman and although there were no more kings and queens to sew such beautiful creations for, she'd never stopped practicing her craft and passing it onto her only daughter. But now she was dead, along with father, killed in an orc raid more than ten years earlier when she and father journeyed to a town three days away with other merchants to purchase rich silken fabrics for her customers.

As I put away the fabric I was currently working on, a shadow crossed the window and I gasped, dropping the basket of notions onto the floor. I stooped down to pick it up and as I sat up to look out of the window, I saw him.

He'd just turned his head to look through the window, his brow furrowed as if seeking a face beyond the glass that would have shown me in my simple frock and hair tucked behind my ears had I not bent down to retrieve the basket. But as I looked up, our eyes met and I froze.  
He had piercing blue eyes that seemed to peer through my very soul, the deep blue of his irises betraying a deep sense of loss that nothing could ever replace. His strong aquiline nose was set against strong regal features, a neatly trimmed beard covering the lower half of his face. His hair, damp from the previous night's rain, was long and thick, streaming past his shoulders.

For a moment I stifled a gasp and he, having at that moment met my own eyes in surprise, looked away, his attention returning to the man he had come to talk about regarding work as a blacksmith.

He still wore the thick coat with its fur collar caked in mud, deep blue tunic that was adorned with gold trim beneath it that belied a man accustomed to a tailored wardrobe. I had not seen many dwarves till the last week or so, when they first started coming through the town and even Bernd had remarked at the beautiful clothing they wore.

So not unlike what Bernd wore, for he preferred to dress simply if he were to work around the animals, feeding them and cleaning after them, making sure the stables were always in excellent condition. Even when I made him such ornate overcoats, embroidered with the shiniest of gold or silver threads I could find in mama's chest, he refused to wear them.

Instead, he'd sold two of the best coats I had made him to the richest man in town, the merchant Lialam, who frequently visited the shop that was also our home to have his clothes mended - even when they did not need such repairs.

"You're the best seamstress in town," Lialam would say as his hand would accidentally brush against mine each time he would lay a torn coat or shirt or trousers he'd claimed he'd ripped while doing this or that. Not that Lialam did anything close to hard labor - if counting gold coins was ever an occupation to qualify as such.

"One day, you will not have to sew any one else's clothes but my own," he said just this morning, just before he told me that Berndt had sold him the second coat - the best coat he had yet seen - in exchange for something of his.

Bernd put the money from the coats Lialam purchased towards the acquisition of a horse rumored to belong to one of the Rohirrim - this according to the merchant himself. It was a beautiful horse, to be sure, and one that seemed to like Berndt, but its cost was too high even for us to afford.

It would require the cost of one more coat, Lialam had told Bernd.

"A coat fit for a king," Bernd told me just a day earlier. "Can you make one, sister? Lialam already said that there is someone else interested in the beast and I don't want to lose this one."

But I could not make Bernd another coat.

Not one fit for a king, for unlike my mother and father, I had not met any kings or princes to copy their coats after. Our little town was but a watering hole for traveling folk, a small mark upon one's map and if one strayed merely two kilometers away from the path, one would surely miss it.

No, there were no kings or princes to be met in our little village - men who would wear coats that I could copy and sew an exact replica for Bernd for.

But that was before today. For today, I had set eyes on the one the dwarves had called their prince, one of the line of Durin. Thorin Oakenshield had just walked past my window, his deep blue eyes seeing through my soul.

And he wore the coat of a king.


	2. Chapter 2

I wondered how long Bernd would notice the princely coat, though now dusty and muddy as it hung from the nail along the outside wall of Jürgen's workshop. Its fur still looked shiny in places and as I watched the dwarf prince pound his hammer against the anvil, my eyes would return to the coat that had once been of midnight blue with gold trim.

Now it was dusty, and grime had darkened it in places. And as each day went by, it only looked dirtier.

The coat was no longer fit to be worn by a prince, I thought, annoyance building with each passing day that I saw it turn darker and filthier. It needed a good cleaning and mending.

But it wasn't just the coat that caught my attention. It was the man - no, the dwarf - who wore it. The same dwarf who'd shrug it off and hang it against the wall before rolling up his sleeves and beginning his work each morning.

Even Jürgen found himself admiring the dwarf's craftsmanship, coming over to the inn to show the other patrons just what his new blacksmith had forged. Once it was a small dagger, and the next day, a pendant with runes written upon it.

"For a prince, he's had to get used to doing all that hard labor," Jürgen mused one afternoon. "For a proud man, it must have been difficult. Yesterday, the poor man barely had anything to eat. He worked all through the midday meal, and only ate at the inn with his companions. And even then, they have to keep to themselves for the villagers are suspicious of them. They fear that they will bring the dragon to the village."

I stared at Jürgen. How could dwarves entice the dragon away from his new home filled wall to wall with jewels? But all I could say was,

"And you never bothered to offer him anything to eat?"

"I'm a blacksmith, Aleanna, not a cook."

Suddenly Jürgen's eyes brightened as his face broke into a grin. "It has been a few moons since you've graced me with your wonderful cooking. Why don't I make you something for your kitchen, eh? You need another knife?"

I shook my head. I had enough knives in my kitchen, I thought, courtesy of the older man whose own family had perished along with my mother and father. To keep himself busy and his thoughts free from memories that would only drive him to tears, Jürgen kept himself busy by crafting weapons of all shapes and sizes.

He had even made me a sword which I kept in a box on the floor by the bed. "You do not need to make me anything, Jürgen," I said, smiling. "I shall bring you and your friend something to eat tomorrow."

The following morning, I watched as Thorin arrived early so he could set up his workspace, rolling up his sleeves around his massive forearms. But instead of working straight away, he sat down by the side of the workshop and puffed on his pipe absentmindedly at the valley below.

It was still dawn as he sat there and watched the sun rise in the horizon. I wondered what he was thinking of but from his face, I only saw sadness that saw no end. Was he thinking of the loved ones he lost when Smaug stole his home away from his people?

Inside the house, Bernd stirred. I could hear him stomping about, splashing water on his face and within minutes, making his way down the stairs as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. It was just another day and as he made his way to the barn to feed and groom the animals, I left the dwarf prince on his own by the side of Jürgen's workshop and proceeded with my own day.

There was so much to do, but not too much that I couldn't throw a few cuts of meat into a pot along with some vegetables to make a stew. I often cooked enough for Bernd and myself, adding a few more portions for Jürgen who only had the choice of food served at the inn. It was no bother to cook for Jürgen and the dwarf prince, I thought.

Keeping the fire low as the stew cooked in its large pot, I sat by the window mending the last of the shirts that I was supposed to have finished yesterday. Farmer Nager had told Bernd that he would be coming in to pick them up before the midday meal.  
As the morning wore on, I watched the dwarf prince work, the hammer hitting the anvil, sparks flying as he forged something that looked like a wide sword. Behind me, the door opened and Bernd walked in.

"That smells excellent, sister," he beamed as he lifted the lid of the pot, and took a deep breath. He smelled of hay and sweat and as he rubbed his hands against his pants leg, he smacked his lips. "I'm starving."

Five minutes later, Bernd was seated at the table, slurping the stew hungrily as he wiped up the sauce with a slice of bread. He stopped to watch me slip on my cloak, pulling the hood over my head and put a few things inside a basket, which included an earthenware pot of stew and a set of bowls. I slipped two loaves of bread and Bernd tried to snatch one but I slapped his hand away.

"Whose is that for?" He asked, frowning.

"For Jürgen and his new blacksmith," I replied as I walked towards the door. I stopped as I reached the door, and cleared my throat. "Will you bring this to Jürgen and his new blacksmith?"

Bernd got up without a word and taking the basket from me, walked out the door. From the window, I watched him walk over to Jürgen's workshop and place the basket on the long table just outside the darkened space where the men forged their creations. Jürgen stopped what he was doing and immediately approached the table, his mouth in a wide grin.

After ten minutes, Bernd returned into the house, but only to refill his bowl. "They've asked me to join them, sister," he said, smiling.

"There's so much talk about the dwarves in the village and this man, Jürgen says, is the prince of Erebor. Can you imagine that? He really is the prince!"

And so he left the house and I was left to watch the three men inconspicuously from my window as they ate and conversed for some time. The prince rarely smiled, but when he did, his smile reached his eyes and they'd twinkle with something akin to joy that had left him when Smaug claimed his home. I caught the dwarf prince look up towards my direction, and once, his eyes caught mine before I disappeared back into the shadows of the house.

The prince of Erebor, I thought with trepidation. That would only mean that he was Prince Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He would have been king under the mountain.

_Until Smaug came and took the mountain away from him._

A sound caught my attention and I looked up, thinking it was the farmer coming to pick up his shirts. I gasped as I saw Thorin's face on the other side of the window and instinctively, I drew back, deep into the shadows as the door, which Bernd had left ajar, opened and the prince stepped inside.

"My lady," he said, the basket of bowls and wooden spoons in his big hands. "I would like to thank you for such an excellent meal. It reminded me so much of home."

"It is an honor to serve you, my prince," I said, suppressing the trembling in my voice. "Please, if you will, leave the basket by the door."

Thorin did as I asked of him but he did not leave. Outside, I could hear Bernd and Jürgen laughing at some joke between them.

"Why do you hide in the shadows, my lady?" Thorin asked in a low voice though I could sense a hint of suspicion - _or was it disappointment?_ - in his tone.

"Am I?"

Just then Bernd walked in. He looked towards me and frowned for a brief a moment before he picked up the basket that Thorin had placed on my work table and began walking to the kitchen.

"My sister may be shy, Prince Thorin," he said. "But don't let her shyness fool you. Aleana is the best seamstress in town."

Thorin's face clouded in a frown, as if a thought had suddenly intruded into his mind, but he turned towards the door, stopping only to look towards me. "My coat needs mending, my lady. Would you be able to mend it?"

"Oh, yes, she will," Bernd said enthusiastically from the kitchen without waiting for me to croak out an answer. "I do not boast needlessly, my lord. Leave the coat here before you leave the smith's and Aleana will have it looking like new in no time. Won't you, sister?"

"Yes...brother," I said, turning to watch Bernd walk out of the back door to return to the stables. My heart sank for I knew what Bernd really wanted. He wanted a copy of that coat, if not the coat itself, to trade to Lialam for the horse that he wanted.

I turned to look towards the door. Thorin clenched and unclenched his hands as he stood at the door, his back towards me. Why hadn't he left?

"I have heard that name before," he said, as if to himself. "I hope, my lady Aleana, that we shall be able to speak freely later when I shall bring my coat."

"Yes, Prince -," I began, stopping as Thorin turned to face me again, his eyes narrowing into slits and he stared at the shadows where I stood.

He was about to take a step towards me when Jürgen's voice stopped him. The smith had a question about a certain metal that he was not familiar with.

Without another word, Thorin stepped out of the door, leaving me alone with only the thundering beat of my heart to keep me company.

He had spoken those last words in Kudzul, I thought in alarm, realizing it too late.

And I had answered him in the same tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the door shut behind Thorin, I ran up to my room and closed the door to the rest of the world. Leaning against it, I waited till the beating of my heart returned to normal, wondering even then what normal really was. For everything in my life had never been truly normal, having only the appearance of it.

I touched my face, feeling the heat on my cheeks slowly cool against my fingers.

How foolish had I been not to have recognized the words that Thorin spoke? It was a language I had known so long ago, a time filled only with darkness I could not understand. Yet I still understood it, as if I'd been speaking it all this time.

I walked to the side of my bed, and kneeling, I reached beneath it and pulled out a long rectangular wooden box. It was a simple box. There was nothing ornate about it, its edges still in need of some sanding. But it served its purpose to hold everything of value that I owned.  
It held the few trinkets, including the sword that Jürgen had made me years earlier, its blade unusually broad and flat, so different from the many swords he'd made anyone else.

"This is yours and yours alone, my child," I still remember him telling me as he placed the sword on my outstretched hands, its blade cool against my skin. "I tried my best to make it look just like -"

"Like what?" I had asked then, watching as the older man's face clouded, as if something dark had crossed his mind's path and stayed there. Then he smiled. "Just like the Narsil that Telchar of Nogrod forged for the King of Numenor," he said. "But instead of making it for a man, I made it to suit you, my child," he said. "It's perfect for your hands and hopefully not too heavy to wield."

"And where will she ever need such a weapon, Jürgen?" Berndt scoffed as he walked past us on his way to the kitchen so he could scoop a few more spoonfuls of soup into his bowl. "We are not about to war with anyone."

Jürgen's face grew hard. "You forget how your parents were taken from you, Berndt," he said as Berndt sat back down on his chair and began to eat. "I want you never to forget that there is always the threat of war at our doorstep and we always need to be prepared for its eventuality. For there will always be those who seek power over others, whether they be orcs and goblins. Even men."

Jürgen had been with my parents when they fell, their bodies found next to the wagon that had been looted of everything the goblins had considered of value. The food had been taken but they had strewn all the fabric that my parents had bought with all their hard earned money at Dale. Out of a caravan of six families that totaled over thirty travelers, only seven were left by the time the orcs fled, the rays of the sun filling the horizon.

Jürgen and the other survivors had been left to bury the bodies that included his own wife and young son. It had taken everything in his power not to go after the orcs but he knew it would have been sure death if he had. Not that Jürgen had wished for death to come so many times afterwards, his tears staining his face as I often found his seated by his kitchen table, staring at nothing before him but his hands that he knew had been useless to save the ones he loved.

I lifted open the lid and just as I expected, Jürgen's gift was the first thing I saw, sheathed in a leather scabbard he had made for it. I picked it up with one hand and pulled out the sword, feeling its balanced weight in my hand. Once upon a time, my arm would have failed to hold it for more than a few seconds, not being used to its weight and balance. But after many sessions of sparring with Jürgen, I was pleased to see that my arm ceased to tremble anymore. Nor did my hands drop the sword because of its weight.

But I had not come up to my room to admire Jürgen's handiwork.

Setting it to one side, I ran my hand through the many swaths of fabric that lay at the bottom of the box, interspersed by a few jewels that my mother had left me. Jürgen had collected all the fabric he could find from my parents' wagon and when he returned, he crafted the box and placing the fabric within it, handed it to me shortly after.

"They would have wanted you to have this, child," he had said then, as tears clouded my vision. To Berndt, Jürgen gave my father's knife, useless against an orc's deadly blade.

I looked at the contents of the box and picked up a piece of jewelry, smiling as I held it in my hand. It was a bit large for my wrist, and when I had been a child, I thought that by the time I reached adulthood, the bracelet would fit me. But it still proved larger than my wrist till one day, it occurred to me that it was a necklace, one that would have graced the neck of a child. Or even her forehead, as if it were an open crown.

And if it was indeed a baby or child's necklace, which was highly impractical for a seamstress such as my mother to have, I had no idea how my parents could even have been able to afford such a treasure, for indeed it was a treasure. It was worth more than a horse, I thought, if not five of Lialam's best horses.

I was grateful that Berndt had never known about such a treasure, for surely he would have asked me to consider using it to pay for whatever would have caught his fancy. Lialam's horse was not the first.

A ruby surrounded by emeralds, together within an arrangement of diamonds - everything about the necklace was breathtaking. The craftsman's attention to detail was amazing and even in the dim afternoon light that filtered through my windows, it still gleamed as if it were illuminated by the sun itself.

One day, I thought, maybe it would serve as a dowry for the man who would eventually marry me. If that man would ever come into my life, I thought wryly as I returned the necklace back into the box, wrapping it carefully and burying it beneath the swaths of fabric.

But there was already a man who had wanted to marry me.

Master Lialam had been asking for my hand in marriage for the last four years and I could never understand what he saw in me. Besides, he already had two wives of his own and I was the one who made their entire wardrobes. And while it was true that I envied the rich fabrics or brocades and silks that they wore, did not envy their position.

It was the one thing that wedged a gap between Berndt and I since Lialam first mentioned marriage. For Lialam had asked him for my hand and without my consent, Berndt had given it, believing himself as the one with authority to give his sister's hand in marriage. Even Jürgen was livid at what Berndt had done, knowing that it was done out of desire for Lialam's riches and status.

"Aleanna is not to be traded like cattle just because Lialam promised you wealth and power, Berndt," Jürgen had said to him angrily that fateful day. "You will tell Lialam that a marriage is out of the question, or I will tell him myself."

"She is beyond marriageable age, Jürgen," Berndt had argued then. "Who will marry her but Lialam?"

"It's not a question of who will want to marry her, Berndt," Jürgen countered. "It's Aleanna's decision if she wants to marry anyone or not."

"You're not our father!" Berndt yelled, his face turning red at the thought of having to go to Lialam and retract his consent.

"Your father and mother would never have allowed it if they were alive," Jürgen said coldly. "If you honor their memory, you will retract your approval."

When it was done, none of us spoke of it ever again, though I often caught Berndt's wistful expression every time Lialam walked through town with his entourage of guards.

Not wanting to think about Lialam, I touched the rest of the pieces inside the box, wanting only to remember mother. My hands touched swaths of fabric that felt smooth to the touch, some of them bearing the lines that mother had drawn upon them with the intent to cut them, probably for a dress magnificent enough for a ball. Some of them were simply fragments of cloth fallen from her work desk that as a child, I had picked up and gathered in my little basket, intending to sew them all into a quilt just for her.

Tears clouded my vision and I began to return everything back into the box quickly, not wanting the emotions to overtake me. But the tears came anyway and as I returned the lid on the box, pushing it beneath the bed once more, I got up, wiping the tears from my face.  
I had much to do, I told myself. There was still a dress for little Asha's birthday that I had to embroider some trim on and I wanted to take advantage of the daylight before it got too dark. But instead of hurrying downstairs, I found myself standing before the mirror, looking at the reflection that stared back at me.

I was never much of a beauty, though my parents always insisted that I was. But don't all parents do that? I asked myself.

My face was wide at the temples — too wide to be ladylike, I thought. But if one were to ask mother or father, were they still alive today, they'd both claim that my fears about having such a wide forehead were unfounded.  
Besides, there were my eyes.

"One can drown in your eyes, ++lukhudel++," mother used to say, using a term she'd used with me for as long as I could remember. It was in Khuzdul and it meant "light of all lights," because that's what I was to her. "And one day, you will be the ++lukhudel++ to someone else."

But at twenty-six, I was still unmarried while all the other girls I had grown up with were now chasing after their own little children, their husbands busy in whatever vocation they chose. Except for Inge, of course, who never really wanted to be married to anyone in the village, insisting that the idea just never appealed to her and that was that.

But then, everyone else just considered her strange, choosing to spend her time with the myriads of herbs that filled her cupboards as she concocted her potions and liniments for every ailment imaginable.

Just as they must think me strange as well, I told myself as I pushed a runaway strand of hair from my face.

I sighed. Why was I being vain all of a sudden, standing before my mirror and wishing I were just as pretty as every other girl in town when I so much work to do? There wasn't just embroidery on Asha's dress that needed to be done, I reminded myself again, for Jürgen was giving Berndt and I another one of his sword fighting lessons in the western fields and he always hated it when we were late.

I pushed a strand of hair away from my face and made my way downstairs just as Farmer Nager knocked on the door, muttering that he had to come to pick up his mended shirts when he could be at the inn enjoying a few pints of beer.


	4. Chapter 4

I had just come down from my room when Thorin knocked on the door, having added something new to my usual fighting attire, though no one could see it because I had it hidden inside my blouse. When Thorin walked in, I was tightening the shoulder belt that held the scabbard behind my back, concealed by the cloak I wore over my dress.

"You can leave your coat on the chair, my prince," I said, feeling his eyes watching me as I smoothed the cloak over myself, my face still hidden in half shadow.

"Where are you going?" He asked, his tone soft as a faint smile graced his lips.

"Jürgen is teaching me sword fighting," I said, embarrassed. Many of the townspeople did not believe that a woman should learn such skill, that it was only for men to learn. But Jürgen knew better, and I had grown to look forward to such sessions with him. Just as it afforded him an escape from the heat of his forge, so it gave me a chance to breathe open air after spending too long inside the house. "I believe he has already left and will be upset if I am late."

As Thorin stepped out of the door and I shut the door behind me, I found that he was still standing there watching me as I pocketed my key. Though he was sweaty from all the work he had just done, the braids that hung alongside his face loose in places, Thorin was still as handsome as ever. No sweat or dirt could mar that face, I found myself thinking — and blushing as soon as I realized my thoughts. I picked up the basket I had set down on the ground before locking the door and Thorin reached to take it from my hand.

"Allow me, my lady," he said. "May I walk with you to wherever you are meeting Master Jürgen?"

I nodded, and we began walking through the cobblestone walkway, aware that people were watching us. I kept my head down as we passed the inn though I saw Farmer Nager catch sight of us, his eyes widening in surprise at the dwarf who walked next to me.

Without his princely coat, Thorin still cut a formidable figure. Though he stood shorter than most, if not all, men in the town of Greenbanú, the dwarf prince had a bearing like no other man I had ever known — except for Lialam, of course, who considered himself superior to everyone because of his wealth. But with Thorin, it was different. The greatness in his bearing flowed in his veins and it radiated from his eyes, making me look away from him each time I turned to glance at him to answer a question about the town or the places that we walked past.

"Have you lived here all your life, my lady?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied. "For as long as I can remember. And please, call me Aleana. There is no need to address me as a lady. Here in Greenbanú, that is what I'm called."

When he was about to say the words again, I touched his arm and he stopped to look at me.

"I insist, my lord," I said. "I am no lady. I am only a seamstress."

He smiled, and a sparkle traveled to his eyes, making them seem bluer than they were. "Then I shall insist that you stop calling me 'my lord' or 'my prince' as well, because here, in your town, I am only a smith."

I chuckled beneath my breath, nodding in agreement. I'd completely forgotten all about our exchange in Khuzdul earlier, relieved that he had not mentioned it as well. For a few moments we did not talk but continued walking, our boots barely making a sound over the cobble stoned sidewalk till we reached the edge of town. But our walk had attracted more than just the attention of the townspeople, for another dwarf begun to follow us, though he kept his distance.

He was a formidable one, judging from his bearing. He was slightly taller than Thorin but with broader shoulders and dark hair that grew straight up in a strip along the middle of his head, from hairline to the back of his head, leaving the sides bald except for tattoos of dwarven runes. I glanced at Thorin to see if he had noticed, but he hadn't. He simply kept walking alongside me, carrying the basket in one hand.

"Are you sure you want to continue?" I asked. "You must be tired from working all day."

Thorin shook his head. "I would love to breathe fresh air myself, my-," he paused, bent his head for a moment before looking back at me. "Aleanna."

I shrugged. From here, we would follow a path towards the grassy knoll where Jürgen would be waiting. I knew he would be surprised that I'd brought a guest, but it seemed that I did not have a choice, although I had to admit that I liked having Thorin walking next to me. Even without his princely coat, he radiated a masculinity that I found my body responding to, my cheeks blushing at the thought of his hand touching my face.

During our walk, I asked Thorin how long they intended to stay in the town, knowing that just like the first wave of dwarves who had come before him, he would leave as soon as he and his people would gather enough supplies for their migration south.

"We leave in a fortnight," Thorin replied, his eyes watching my face longer than I was comfortable being gazed at. "We need to head south of Mirkwood before traveling west through Rohan while the weather remains cool. It will be difficult for my people when winter comes if we wait too long."

For a few minutes we were silent, and I realized then that I would miss Thorin's company, even though I'd barely had time to get to know him. I was only the seamstress tasked to fix his coat after all.

"Tell me about the town," Thorin said as he glanced back at the town behind us, the figure of the lone dwarf following us now visible even to him, yet he did not question it. Around us the birds were singing and a light breeze blew from the East, ruffling his dark hair.

"Greenbanú is a small town, much smaller than most towns you have probably stayed in," I began. "But we are blessed with the forest to the West and River Running to the north of us from where many streams flow to give us our water. You must have passed the Old Forest Road before coming here as well, which cuts through Mirkwood though it is dangerous to use because of goblins."

I became silent again, realizing that it was goblins that had slain my parents as they traveled with a caravan along the Road. Thorin did not say anything, choosing instead to be silent as we began to follow the path going up the hill.

"Our town does not have a formal Master or leader but Lialam takes on that role simply because he is the wealthiest and owns most of the buildings that you see." At this I turned around so that we were looking down on the town before us. I pointed to a two story structure at the western edge of town bordered by a high gate. "That is Lialam's house."

"It is closest to the forest," Thorin remarked and I nodded. "But didn't you say goblins lurk in the forest? Isn't he afraid?"  
I shook my head. "Goblins are found much deeper within the forest, I believe, and also much closer to the Misty Mountains to the west of us."

"You are well versed with your geography, Aleanna," Thorin said and I found myself reddening at the sound of my name leaving his lips. I turned around and followed the path again, hoping he did not notice though my hood still covered most of my face.

"There is not much to do in town other than read books and maps," I said. "Or sit with Inge and learn about her herbal concoctions, which can be quite boring and can leave one of marriageable age without a partner at all."

"And that is all that you do besides your sewing?" Thorin asked, ignoring my last sentence. "Or your sword fighting, which I am about to see?"

I chuckled. "I'm afraid there isn't much to see concerning my sword-fighting, Thorin. I have much to learn still."

"There is always much to learn in everything," Thorin said softly as we finally reached the top of the hill and found Jürgen already going through his routine. As he looked towards us, an expression of surprise came upon his face followed by a wide grin. He called Thorin's name and welcomed him.

"Where is Berndt?" I asked. Berndt would have been already here as well, but the hilltop only had its lone occupant, Jürgen and his horse, now joined by Thorin and myself, though I knew that the dwarf following us was not far behind. I wondered why Thorin had not noticed him, or said anything if he did.

"He is not coming," Jürgen said, heaving a sigh. "He said there was too much work in the stables, though I suspect we will later find him drinking at the inn."

Before Jürgen and I could start our practice session, the dwarf following us finally arrived and Thorin introduced him as Dwalin, son of Fundin, a trusted friend who had accompanied him from Erebor. Dwalin worked in the mines east of the town and I could smell the scent of metal on him. It clung to his skin and his clothes. And his hair that sprouted as if on spikes along the middl of his scalp.

Dwalin frowned as he watched me pull my sword from its scabbard, his eyes widening at the sight of the wide blade. Thorin noticed it, too.  
"That is a dwarf sword," Dwalin said in a gruff voice and Jürgen laughed, agreeing.

"Of course, it is," he said. "I made it especially for Aleana because all my other swords are too long for her to wield. This one is perfect for her, but I would not call it a real dwarven sword for it is only a poor copy of one."

Thorin and Dwalin asked to inspect my sword and I handed it to them, leaving them to discuss the intricacies of Jürgen's handiwork as I approached Jürgen and stood alongside him to begin the smooth warm up movements he taught me. But my cloak was still on so I undid the clasp at my neck and set my cloak on the ground.

I touched the sides of my face, hoping the skin was as smooth as it should be. Inge had taught me how to keep my skin as soft as a baby's bottom using sugar, water and the juice of a lemon boiled into a sticky paste that I stored in an earthenware jar. She told me that the more often I did it, the less the hair would grow till none would grow anymore. But it had been years since I'd started, and still the hair on the sides of my jaw grew much like beards on men if I did not do as Inge instructed.

But then so did the beards continue to grow on the old Mathilda sisters, I thought to myself. Maybe that was the way it worked for most women as they got older, though I was much too young to worry about such things. You were just born with much hair, child, my mother used to tell me. Berndt was much the same way.

"But Berndt is a man, mother," I remember whining then, to which Berndt would respond that of course he was a man. What else could he be?

"You look fine," Jürgen said, chuckling as he watched me smooth my hair nervously. I had braided my long blonde hair into one thick braid that I wound into a bun just above my neckline and held in place with a thin net ornament that Inge made for me.

"Whose idea was it to take him with you?" Jürgen asked.

I glanced at the two dwarves still talking, though their attention was no longer on the blade before them but towards Jürgen and I. "He asked me if he could walk me here," I whispered. "I did not think he was going to stay and watch."

"Well, it seems that's exactly what he and Dwalin are set on doing," Jürgen said, chuckling. "Maybe this will prove to be an incentive for you to finally start showing me what you've learned so far, child."

From the saddle bags, Jürgen retrieved two wooden swords and handed one to me. He must have traveled along the back horse trail that led towards the hill, I thought, the path that cut through the edge of the forest below. Berndt and I had often taken the same forest trail from the stables to get here in the past. It was in this forest where Jürgen showed me more than just how to fight with swords, but how to hunt game just like he and Berndt did. He even knew the secret path that led to the waterfall that only we knew about.

But it had been almost a year since we'd been into the forest, our lives having gotten busier since the first of the dwarves started streaming through the town months earlier. The first wave of dwarves had told us about Smaug and the devastation of Erebor and the town of Dale. And with the dwarves came the survivors of Dale themselves, their clothes blackened from smoke and some of them dying before any of Inge's potions could help them.

The men and women's vivid stories of Smaug's destruction had stirred so much fear in the townspeople and even now, with the next wave of dwarves having arrived with the young prince of Erebor himself, Thorin, it only made the fear even more potent. I watched as their hands trembled as they told their tales, wishing that they'd stop recounting the nightmare of the dragon to help themselves begin to heal. But telling their stories was part of their healing and so Inge and I would let them continue.

But it was the dwarves who never said anything that told me the most of what had happened to them, their faces stoic and unyielding though their eyes told me everything I needed to know. But in their eyes, I also saw something else — a look of bafflement followed by the narrowing of their eyes just before a flash of recognition at the sight of something familiar.

Yet unfamiliar.

Thorin's voice shouting out my name brought me back to the present and I found myself staring at a wooden sword heading straight towards me. I stepped back and brought my own wooden sword in front of me, feeling the handle vibrate in my hands as wood hit wood. I pushed back against him with a grunt escaping my chest, forcing Jürgen to retreat from the very same moves he'd taught me long ago. If we had been fighting with real swords, I thought, I would have been dead.

Jürgen had taught Berndt and I a series of gracefully executed moves designed to maximize our growing skills with the sword, and with practice, even I had to admit that I didn't look too terrible, even in my usual outfit of a loose blouse tucked into a skirt and over that, an overcoat.

But one of the advantages of being a seamstress was the ability to design my own clothes. And while I would never design lovely gowns for myself, I did make a few alterations to my dress so that I could do things unencumbered by skirts and flowing fabric. I had sewn myself a pair of trousers, much like Berndt's, close fitting and tapered along the ankle so that I could slip it into a pair of leather boots and move around like a man if I needed to.

During Jürgen's training sessions, I'd been tripped by my own skirts as well as burdened by the thought that when I fell on the ground, someone could see my underthings. Now that would be embarrassing. And so with trousers underneath the skirt that I wore, one that could easily come off when needed, I was able to fight without any worries of exposing myself or breaking my neck. I could focus on holding the broad sword with both hands and wield it just like Jürgen did so effortlessly. I'd long grown accustomed to its weight and even now, Jürgen remarked at how smoothly I appeared to slice the air around me with the wooden blade.

"Just don't give yourself a splinter when you're too busy daydreaming instead of fighting," Jürgen joked as I gave him an angry stare. But Jürgen's gaze traveled from my face down to my chest where his eyes widened at what he saw and I brought my hands towards that which I had kept hidden beneath my blouse.

The ties along the neckline had loosened, and the child's necklace glistened in the light of the afternoon sun. The rubies and the emeralds nestled in their gold fittings lay cool against my skin, the end of the necklace made longer by the attachment of leather thongs that allowed me to slip the necklace over my neck. What had possessed me to wear it now, of all times? I asked myself. But even I had no answers for the desire to feel it against my skin proved greater than any of my rational mind's excuses not to.

"Aleanna, cover it up!" Jürgen hissed beneath his breath as I shielded the jewels with my fingers and began fastening the ties of my blouse together. But even as I managed to keep the necklace hidden again, it was too late. Thorin and Dwalin had both seen it, too.

They strode towards me, their eyes set on the treasure now hidden beneath my blouse. Jürgen stepped in front of me to block Thorin from approaching me, but Thorin spoke to him in a low tone, saying something I could not hear. As I took another step back, Jürgen allowed the prince to pass.

The silence between us was deafening. As Thorin drew closer, the scent of his masculinity and that of the sweat that had gathered on my skin while I practiced mingling in the air between us, I found myself trembling, my fingers loosening the tie once again so Thorin could see what it was that I had tried to hide.

It was as if an unspoken command had been spoken, a request that needed no words to be said. And when Thorin finally did speak, he did so in Khuzdul.

"I know you now," Thorin said, his fingers lifting my chin up to face him. It was a bold move on his part to touch me like he did, his voice smooth and low as a man speaks to his beloved.

For my real name was just as Thorin whispered. Beloved.

And even Jürgen knew then that the truth could never be hidden in the dark forever.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything around me stood still as Thorin looked at me. And for a brief moment, I saw him as a child looking at me much the same way, sending chills up and down my spine. I had seen that gaze before, I thought, as I barely heard the sound of Jürgen's voice sternly calling my name. But it had been so many years ago that I'd been the subject of that gaze, before my whole life changed and I was forced to stop being what I was.

It was something that had nagged at me for so long. The differences between the other girls in town and myself had been so glaringly obvious that I learned to hide them all beneath my hooded cloak. Mother had tried her best to tell me that I was simply shorter, stockier and hairier than most women she knew - even all young girls we knew.

While there wasn't much we could do regarding my height, though I'd developed an ample bosom that attracted more attention than I wanted, mother knew there was something we could do about the beard that grew on my face even as a young child. And so she used father's razor to shave my face first thing in the morning so that no one would see, checking it at night to make sure it did not need another shave the next day. And when Inge taught mother what melted sugar, water and lemon could do to pull the hairs by the roots, she taught me how to do it, till it no longer hurt me each time I did it to myself. And the hairs that once filled the the sides of my jaw eventually grew sparser as the years went by, rendering my face as smooth as the next woman in town - except the Mathilda sisters.

"Aleanna," Jürgen growled. "Leave! Now!"

Thorin glared at the older man as Dwalin stood alongside him. "How dare you order her like she was a child?" Thorin asked angrily. "How long did you think you could hide Frigga from her own kind, Master Jürgen? She is a dwarf, not a human you can order about."

I took a step back, Thorin's spell over me finally broken as Jürgen whistled for his horse, mounting it fluidly as it cantered past him. I'd known Jürgen for as long as I could remember. His voice had always been one of authority that I knew better to refuse ever since my parents died.

But at the thought of the people I had long considered my parents, I hesitated and I glanced back at Thorin.

"I know who you are, Frigga," Thorin said. "I gave you that circlet that you wear now as a necklace for your fourth birthday. I was only seven then, but I chose the jewels myself. Ruby and emeralds, set in a sea of diamonds. Fiery and earthy, because that's what you were. We used to play together in the Great Hall."

As Thorin spoke, I held my breath, his voice holding me captive. And when he continued, I felt the beating of my heart only grow louder, the pulse hammering between my temples.

"That scar that you hide behind your hood," Thorin continued as his finger traced the outline of the scar that spanned from my right cheekbone down along my neck, ending just above the collarbone. "You were too impatient to wait for a royal guard to retrieve your new kite stuck in the branches of the yew that grew along the side of the courtyard. And so you climbed the parapet and slipped, cutting yourself so deep you almost died from your wounds."

"I was too young to know any better," I whispered.

"Too young and already too precocious. You were four when you fell," Thorin whispered. "So much time may have already passed since then, but I know in my heart it's you."

I did not know why, but in that brief second when I looked into the prince's eyes, the world I once knew crumbled around me. The place I had long called home had been nothing but an illusion, a well-crafted story to make me believe that I was one of them, in this town of men.

Suddenly Jürgen was by my side and he swung off the side of the horse, lifting me up unceremoniously onto the saddle in front of him, his firm grip on my waist making me gasp for air. Thorin and Dwalin tried to run after him but we were halfway down the hill by the time they reached the start of the trail leading down into the forest. I shouted for Jürgen to let me go, frightened by the suddenness of his actions. Just minutes earlier, he'd been laughing, I thought. And now Jürgen's face was grim, his grip on my waist so tight that I could hardly breathe.

Then I saw it.

On the other side of the hill, along the path where Thorin and I had walked, men on horseback made their way up to where we'd just been on top of the hill. I recognized Bernd in the front of the group, and alongside him was Lialam, the burly man's frame towering over his own horse. As Jürgen spurred the horse onwards, deeper into the forest, I saw them surround Thorin and Dwalin.

"Don't make a sound," Jürgen hissed as he drove the horse faster into the forest, losing ourselves beneath the shelter of the trees and deeper still.

"What's going on?" I asked when I finally caught my breath and Jürgen slowed the horse's pace, moving farther away from the path that led to the town. "Jürgen, please tell me. Where are we going?"

"I did not expect you to bring the dwarf prince with you this afternoon, or I would have told you sooner. But I didn't want to frighten you. Besides you were glowing, child, standing next to the prince."

"Tell me what?" I asked, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. "Whatever could frighten me?"

"Berndt just gave your hand away in marriage, Aleanna," Jürgen said grimly. He pulled on the reins and I scrambled off the saddle, falling on the ground as my knees gave way beneath me. "Or should I start calling you Frigga, now that you know what you are?"

I stared at him, the name he spoke sounding so familiar yet it had been so long since I'd heard it spoken. Frigga meant beloved in the ancient tongue, I thought.

"You knew all these years?"

"That's the name of the dwarf child countless merchants and travellers from Erebor who passed through Greenbanü sought for years," Jürgen continued. "They said that she'd been taken from the grand marketplace in Dale, and that she was the daughter of a high counselor of Erebor, a princess in her own right."

I dusted my hands on my skirts as Jürgen ordered me to turn around. As I did so, he slipped the sword he had made for me back into its sheath that was still secured on my back. As the blade settled in its scabbard, its weight across my back made me realize just how vulnerable I'd felt without it. I turned around to face him again.

"How long have you known?" I asked as Jürgen dismounted and began checking the saddlebags for its contents. He'd filled the bags with bundles of food, two leather bladders filled with water, and a blanket. The other saddle bag was filled with other supplies as well, as if he were leaving for a long trip, a pot and wooden utensils hanging from it.

"I knew what you were the moment your parents brought you home from a trip to Dale. They said they found you on the roadside, but I knew better," he said. "They'd been trying to have a child since Bernd was born and each time, Jerrel either miscarried or it was stillborn. And then one day, they had you, so beautiful and petulant in your dress and precious crown. You were only five years old, I think. At least that's what you told me then."

"I told you? About me?"

"You talked a lot in the beginning, though I barely understood you for you spoke a different language," Jürgen said, smiling faintly though his eyes were wistful. "Then eventually you hardly talked at all."

I sighed. "Because I had to learn to speak the language of men," I said softly. "And I didn't know how to get back home."  
Jürgen nodded. "Jerrel and Tadd were good people - even you know that, child - but they were desperate for a little girl. I pray you'll forgive them one day for what they did. I know that they loved you till their last breath, and I always feared that the time would come when you would learn the truth."

For a few moments we did not speak. I was too overwhelmed by what had just happened, and by what I had just heard Jürgen say. Then I remembered what he said about Bernd.

"So who am I supposed to marry?" I asked, trying to smile even as Jürgen's face remained as grim as ever.

"Who else?" Jürgen replied, frowning. "Lialam made Berndt an offer he could no longer refuse. I doubt if any man could. I heard the news when I went to the stables to saddle Clara."

"Did he sell me in exchange for that horse from Rohan?"

Jürgen shook his head. "That would have been an insult if he had, child," he said. "Lialam offered Bernd something ten times better. He is going to make Bernd mayor of the town. It will give him the privilege of living in the second largest abode in Greenbanü, and in time, become rich, second only to Lialam."

I was speechless. I'd always known how Bernd hated our circumstances, that we had to work hard with our hands every day while others like Lialam simply sat back and watched life go by all around them, waiting for rents and debts to be paid, seizing property when people couldn't pay him. I knew how Bernd envied Lialam for his power, but I never realized just how badly the desire had burned deep inside him.

"He can't just trade me like cattle," I said stubbornly. "I'm not even his sister!"

"It does not matter what you are, human or dwarf," Jürgen said. "What matters is that you are his to give away in marriage according to our customs. This was one arrangement I was helpless to stop, child, and I am sorry."

"But what does Lialam want from me?" I asked. "I have nothing to give him. I am not even of his kind. Even you agree that I'm a dwarf. I'd be nothing more than a trophy, like his two wives, to be paraded inside his house for his own pleasure" I said, tears blinding my vision as I shook in anger at what Bernd had just done.

I had sewn the dresses Lialam had designed for his wives, gowns that left little to the imagination and at first I had thought it all a joke. But when the women had to try them on, in front of Lialam and his trusted friends, I could only imagine the humiliation they felt, being paraded like ornaments as he laughed and pointed at them. Since then I had refused to go to Lialam's house for any reason. If he had wanted a gown sewn, he had to come to my little house in the poor part of the town, knowing he'd never dare have me sew such shameful dresses again.

Jürgen looked up, as if hearing something in the distance. He lifted me onto the saddle. "That is exactly what Lialam wants you for - as a trophy. That necklace alone, or whatever it is, is enough to buy the whole town, child. But to know that you will just become a plaything to someone like Lialam," Jürgen spat angrily. "I would rather slit your throat first before I'd let you be a toy to that monster."

I stared at him. Jürgen meant what he had just said, and it made me tremble as I watched his fingers grip the handle of his sword.

"Go, child," he said. "Go to that place I showed you, the one we've long prepared for that hunting trip I've always talked about, though this time you're the one being hunted. I will come for you and lead you out of the town when it is safe."

"You mean I can't go back home?" I asked stubbornly, refusing to believe that this was happening. But as I saw the look on Jürgen's stricken face, , the gravity of the situation finally dawned on me.

"Greenbanü is no longer your home, Frigga," he said, uttering my name for the second time that I took a deep intake of breath as my new reality finally sank in, turning my mouth dry. "This never was your home, no matter how hard Tadd, Jerrel or I taught you how to fit in."

In the distance, I heard the voice of Lialam shouting orders for his men to search the area, and to bring his "dwarf bride" to him when they found her, laughing as he said it. I paled and stared at Jürgen, wishing this was only a dream, and that if I'd only pinch myself, I'd wake up and find myself back on my own bed, never having known what I truly was.

"There is no time, Frigga! Go!" Jürgen said as he struck the horse's hindquarters and it bolted through the forest, galloping beyond the trail and into the cluster of trees that grew denser as I kept going. My heart beat wildly inside my chest and though I wanted to turn to look back at Jürgen, I knew I needed to keep my wits about me and focus. One false step and I could fall off the horse and break my neck, I thought.

It was getting dark and I needed to get to the waterfall that lay deeper into the forest. Jürgen had shown me the cave just behind it, kept dry from the overhanging rocks and overgrowth that hid it from view. He and I had cleared the space inside it many times as we rode through the forest, with him naming the trees and shrubbery, instructing me on what was edible, and what was not.

I could never understand then why he insisted on keeping its location a secret, even to Bernd. But as I spurred the horse named Clara forward, I finally understood. I'd been too complacent, accepting my fate for so long to be guided by men around me, for even mother - no, Jerrel - left most decisions up to her husband, while I left mine in the hands of Bernd and Jürgen.

Yet with the coming of the dragon that stripped the line of Durin its home and power, the changes traveled far and wide, like ripples upon calm waters. And now the ripples had reached to disturb Greenbanü and my own little unspoilt world.

But Jürgen had known this would happen - that one day, Lialam would finally name a price that Bernd could not refuse. B

But he never foresaw a time when one day, the prince of Erebor would come and find a long-lost member of his court, one who used to taunt him, play with him and one day, even tell him boldly that when she'd grow up to be a woman, she'd pick him to be her husband.


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

I found the place just before nightfall. Though there were two entrances, the one easiest to travel through was found along the back of the rock face, hidden deep behind a thick growth of trees and shrubbery. The other entrance was through the front of the waterfall, but that often became too slippery to be passable, though I'd once leaped into the water from its prominent ledge, much to Jürgen's chagrin.

He'd have been doubly upset had he known I'd ventured twice more alone just to go for a swim in its cool waters, I thought, as I tied Clara's reins along a tree branch and proceeded to light a torch that Jürgen had left by the entrance. Clearly he'd expected the cave to be used for another one of our hunting trips sometime soon as he had also made it his mission to teach me not only sword fighting but hunting as well. I found firewood piled neatly along one side of the entrance, and one more torch leaning against the wall opposite where I stood.

The cave was empty as I'd hoped it would be. No animals lurked inside its dark recesses, and as much as I wished for the comfort of my home, I knew that Jürgen was right. Greenbanü was no longer my home.

My mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts and memories, and as I began to prepare for the night, I worried about Jürgen, wondering if Lialam would punish him for letting me escape. I thought about Thorin and Dwalin, wondering if Lialam, too, would assume that they were part of the plan. It must have been Farmer Nager who alerted Lialam about my whereabouts, having seen me walk past the pub with Thorin by my side.

I could not fathom how Bernd could agree to the marriage when he knew how I felt about Lialam. Even Jürgen had stopped him from giving my hand in marriage years earlier. And Lialam had never indicated any new interest in me other than the usual playful comments that I never took seriously.

Making Bernd mayor of the town was certainly an offer no one could refuse - but in exchange for my hand in marriage? I did not understand it. What could Lialam possibly want from me?

Besides, I was a dwarf.

Now that I finally knew the answer to all questions long brushed off by Jerrel and Tad, the realization that I'd always known what I was made me ashamed for denying it. My own memories of my childhood before living with them were hazy, the only remnants were but colors of royal blue and green, and gold. Lots of gold.

But having lost my home had made me cling to the new home I found myself in, even long after I was old enough to return to have been able to return to Erebor on my own. But what then? Had I returned to Erebor years earlier, I would have been right back here now, or worse - dead from the dragon Smaug.

I sighed. It didn't matter anymore whether I could have gone back home sooner or not. What mattered now was that the dwarves were passing through Greenbanü, and I needed to find their camp and travel with them.

I wrapped the blanket that Jürgen had packed in one of Clara's saddle bags over my shoulders. I watched the darkness descend outside, the sound of birds long gone now for the whole cavern echoed of the sound of water cascading down the rocks below. It wasn't loud, but it was frightening just the same, knowing that I'd never feel the comfort of home again.

As darkness fell, I knew there was nothing I could do for now, at least not tonight. But I was deep in the forest all alone and I was scared. Even though Jürgen and I had spent a few nights here in the past, it wasn't the same. This time I was hiding like a coward.

Tears stung my eyes and I wiped them away, angry at myself for being weak. I wanted to go back and confront Bernd, and tell him that he had no right to give me away in marriage. Especially not when I wasn't his to give away. I was never his sister and neither was I anything like him.

I was a dwarf, and as I brought my hands in front of me, gazing at fingers that I had long wished were more slender like all the other girls, I knew it could never be. For I was a dwarf and there was nothing I could do to change that.

When morning came, I first checked on Clara and found her munching away on the grass next to where I had tethered her. I found a sugar cube in one of the bags, and as she ate it, I ran my hand along her neck, grateful that we had both survived the night. All alone, every snap of a twig and rustle of a tree branch outside had startled me, my imagination running wild in the darkness. But with the morning, my confidence returned and I walked along the perimeter of the falls, making sure that all my tracks from the night before were gone, while also checking for fresh tracks in case someone might have followed me.

Once I was certain that I was alone, I dug into the bag of food that Jürgen had prepared for me. Breakfast consisted of bread and jam, although I missed a good cup of tea but found none in any of the bags.

I wondered when Jürgen would come for me, knowing that it could be days before he could do so. But even as I thought about Jürgen's plan, I knew that I simply couldn't wait for him or anyone to come for me. I had depended on so many people till now but this time, I needed to make my own decisions.

I remembered that Thorin said his people had set camp south of the town, and I knew that if I were to leave Greenbanü, now would be the perfect time to do so. I could travel south with them, I thought. After, all they were my people.

But first, I wanted to make sure that Jürgen was alright, that no harm would come to him for letting me escape. I owed the old man my life and I wasn't about to abandon him.

I went around the front of the falls, seeking an overhang of ivy that led into an inner cave, its opening narrow enough for me to slip through and concealed by an overhanging of vines. The last time Jurgen and I had come here, I found it while waiting for him, removing my boots and dipping my feet and legs into the pool within. Hours later I watched him return from my hiding place, waiting if he'd find it himself.

With his calls for me unanswered, Jürgen almost left in a panic thinking that I'd made my way back alone to the town. I remembered how angry he'd gotten when I finally emerged, fearing something had happened to me. But if Jürgen hadn't been able to find me then, I knew that no one would. And as I stood behind the cover of the overhanging vines that faced the forest below, I knew then that it was the perfect hiding place that afforded me a view of the river.

It was beginning to be a warm day and the sun cast its dappled rays through the leaves, a dance of shadows and light upon the stone floor. I took off my boots, shaking the dust off them. The stone floor felt cool to my cramped feet as I next slipped off the trousers I still wore beneath my skirts, folding them and setting them aside next to the boots. Then I hiked up my skirts and sat down on the stone floor and dipped my feet into the pool of water.

For a few minutes I sat there enjoying the feel of the water against my legs, listening as birds in the trees filled the air with their songs and the sound the water crashing against the rocks below. I was tired, having barely slept that night as dreams flitted in and out of my consciousness.

A tree branch crunching underfoot snapped me out of my reverie and I looked beyond the covering of vines to the clearing below the falls. My heart leaped at my throat as I noticed Dwalin in the distance. He stared at the waterfall for a few moments, before directing his eyes towards the ground, and I knew then that he was looking for tracks. As he kept walking, I watched in horror as he began to walk along the same path where I had led Clara last night. When Dwalin disappeared beyond my field of vision, towards the direction of the rear trail leading to the cave, I got up and turned around to grab my boots, oblivious of the water puddles at my feet.

By the time I recognized the presence behind me, it was too late. Startled, I slipped. But Thorin grabbed hold of my waist, stopping my fall.

"You hide well, Frigga," He said, his face so close to mine as he helped me up. "But not well enough for Dwalin and I."

For a few moments I was speechless. But my relief at seeing Thorin again, knowing that he was safe, overwhelmed me. And before I could stop myself, I brought my arms around his neck, catching him by surprise. I didn't realize the tears that had spilled down my cheeks till Thorin gently brushed them with his finger.

"You've grown soft, Frigga," he said. "Where is the spoilt child I once knew?"

I pulled away, suddenly ashamed but Thorin shook his head and lifted my chin up to look at him.

"I like it, this new softness," he smiled. "So different from the petulant little girl I once knew."

"You were just as bad as I, Thorin," I said. "But that was a long time ago. And we all change."

Thorin let me go, his face turning stern again. He had changed his clothes and he wore the blue coat with the pelt along the collar again. He must have stopped at the house, I thought, when he realized that I was never going to mend it. "You are right. That was a long time ago, but there are still some things that will never change, Frigga."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"That you are a dwarf, and you are one of my people," Thorin replied. "And I will do everything in my power to make sure you return to us, even if we no longer have Erebor to call our own."

"Where do you plan to go?" I asked.

"To Dunland," he said. "There will be work there, although we are forced to take work wherever we can get it so we can get fresh supplies."

"How did you find me?" I asked as I slipped on my trousers under my skirts, and then the boots. "Did Jürgen tell you how to find me? Is he alright?"

Thorin didn't answer my questions. "They are still looking for you," he said, as a worried expression crossed his face. "Lialam let us go, saying we need to mind our own business. Why he wants to marry you, even after Jürgen told him what you were, I don't understand. But I feel it has something to do with the circlet. It is quite precious, and it is one of the few remaining treasures of our home."

As he said this, Thorin's hand reached for my neck, pushing the hair off my shoulders. I brought my hands to my neck, knowing that the circlet that I had turned into a necklace was still there, its weight being a comfort for me all night. "None of us were able to take anything other than the clothes on our backs when Smaug came, Frigga," Thorin said softly, his eyes seeming to gaze far away even as he was looking at me. "He routed the halls, every single one of them, and killed many who were still trapped inside. We had no warning, except for the mighty wind and the fires of Dale."

I touched the cool jewels below my neck. "I'm grateful Jerrel and Tad never once considered selling this no matter how difficult their life was," I whispered. "It's yours."

"I gave this to you, Frigga," Thorin said, shaking his head as I untied the leather thong and placed the circlet of jewels in his hand. "I cannot take it back."

"Take it," I said as he pulled his hand away, but I placed it there anyway, closing his fingers over it. "If it is what Lialam wants, when he finds me, he will get it. Best keep it safe for me."

"Frigga, I can't take this," Thorin said, but I turned away from him and crossed my arms in front of me.

"Lialam parades his wives," I began and Thorin frowned. "He treats them like toys for him and his friends. Jürgen said Lialam wants me as a trophy. A dwarf trophy, simply because he can."

Thorin drew a deep intake of breath. "How dare he even think you as a trophy," Thorin growled and his hand tightened over my shoulder. "You are a child of Erebor, Frigga, and I will not allow you to marry that monster."

"Where is Jürgen?" I asked again for he had never answered me the first time.

Thorin let go of me and walked towards the opening of the cave just as Dwalin poked his head inside. "We need to leave, Thorin. Or they will wonder where we've gone," he said, and as his eyes drifted towards me, he smiled. "Ah, she's safe."

"Yes," Thorin said to Dwalin, who then said something about having to take Clara somewhere for better grazing before disappearing again. Thorin turned to face me, his jaw tightening. "Lialam is holding Jürgen in the dungeon till you return to the town willingly. He has men watching the encampment all day and even at night, just in case you try to go there."

Upon hearing about Jürgen predicament, I began heading for the opening where Dwalin had disappeared, but Thorin gripped my arm to prevent my departure.

"I have to get him out, Thorin," I said, panic rising in my voice. "I can't let Jürgen pay for my cowardice."

"Cowardice?" Thorin asked, his voice turning deeper. "You call standing for yourself cowardice? Jürgen made his choice to help you escape, Frigga. The last thing he wants is to have all the work he prepared for you go to waste. He knew this was coming, and he prepared you for it."

"But I don't think he anticipated that Lialam would hold him a prisoner," I said. "Please, Thorin, I need to help him. He's old. He does not deserve to rot in a dungeon all because of me."

"So you intend to marry Lialam so he can parade you like a toy?" Thorin asked. His eyes burned a deep blue as he glared at me. "Is that what you're willing to do to help Jürgen? What about your people? Don't we matter to you at all? Have you lived with men for so long that you've completely forgotten what you are? Who you are?"

"I…" I stammered, not knowing what to say. Thorin's voice had grown so gruff and deep as he spoke, it made me tremble - not from fear, but from the sheer masculinity of him so close to me. It emanated from him and made my skin quiver.

"Do you know how long your parents searched for you?" Thorin asked quietly as I stared at him. "Can you imagine the grief they went through from the time you disappeared until the time when even the king, my grandfather, told them to accept the inevitable."

He was still gripping my arm and when I turned my eyes towards his hand, Thorin released his hold of me and walked towards the front of the cave, sighing. "These people you considered your family kept you away from your real family. We sent messengers as far as Dunland searching for you. We even offered a reward for any news about your whereabouts. Yet all this time, they hid you away."

Thorin turned to face me. "Do you know that your mother is traveling with us? She could have gone on to the Iron Hills but she insisted on traveling along with your father, even though the she suffered greatly."

I walked towards Thorin and grasped his arm. My memories of Erebor were very few, limited to colors and feelings, emotions I associated with the people who had loved me, been with me, and even played with me. Even now I saw a glimpse of her hand nearing my face, touching the scar. I remembered the songs she sang, which helped me keep the ancient language alive all these years.

"My mother? Does she know that I'm alive? And my father?"

"Your father died one month ago. He suffered worse than your mother. Both of them breathed Smaug's breath and it damaged their lungs, your father worse of all." Thorin placed his hand over mine. "I will take you to the camp before nightfall. You can stay there."

"Won't my presence risk everyone in the camp?" I asked. "You just said that there are men watching the camp now."

Thorin chuckled, though there was no humor in his voice. "There are so many of us leaving camp in the morning to work in the neighboring towns, and returning just before nightfall for his men to be able to tell you from anyone else."

"But they will," I said. "They've known me all my life, Thorin. What happens when they find out that you are hiding me?" I shook my head. "I will visit my mother, but I will return here. Besides, I need to speak to Bernd had have him retract his answer to Lialam. It will put an end to all this nonsense."

Thorin shook his head. "I'm afraid he might not be able to retract his word anymore, Frigga."

"What do you mean?"

"Bernd is now the mayor of the town," Thorin replied grimly. "He was appointed mayor just before nightfall, before Dwalin and I left the town."

I started to say something but Thorin suddenly grabbed me, turning me so that my back was against him, his hand covering my mouth. We were both facing the opening hidden by the vines, our eyes watching the clearing below as Berndt appeared. He was followed closely by three other men and they were scouring the area, Bernd's own eyes scanning the water in front of him.

"Don't make a sound," Thorin whispered just as Bernd looked right at the overhanging ivy behind the falls, as if straight through where we were hiding.


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

Thorin's arm around my waist gripped me so tightly that I could barely breathe. As Bernd stared at the waterfall in front of him, he might as well have been looking straight at us, and my heart thundered inside my chest as his eyes appeared to stop right where Thorin and I stood behind the cover of water and ivy. Bernd's eyes narrowed.

"Be quiet, woman!" Thorin whispered, his mouth by my ear. I could hear him breathing heavily as he held me even tigher.

I dug my fingernails into Thorin's arm, wishing he'd ease his grip on my waist but it was no use. Thorin was much stronger than I, and the last thing he wanted was for Bernd to find us.

"Master Bernd," said one of the men. "We tracked the trail through here. It stops up the slope over to the back of the waterfall."

"I know this place," Bernd said and I held my breath for a few moments as he scanned the area slowly. Of course you know of this place, brother, I thought. Jürgen used to take us here during the summer when we were younger so we could cool off.

Though Jürgen never revealed the presence of the caves to Bernd, we'd come here on our own twice, the first time getting lost and finding ourselves all the way to the edge of the forest two hours away. The memories stirred by his presence made me sad. Just yesterday I had served him stew and he had bragged to Thorin about how excellent I was as a seamstress. He'd been so proud of me then.

Bernd turned to look away from the waterfall for a few moments before turning to look at it again, as if he'd seen something, felt something. Behind him, one of the men approached, speaking to him though I could not hear him over the sound of the water hitting the rocks below.

As I watched Bernd listen to one of his men, I remembered how close Bernd and I were, realizing that he knew exactly how I felt about Lialam. We had shared so much, I thought. Why then was he doing this?

Suddenly the rage that had been boiling inside me since yesterday erupted. I struggled against Thorin, wanting him to let go of me so I could run over to Bernd and hit him in the face so he'd see reason. I wanted to scream at him for his audacity of trading me like I was cattle.

As I struggled in Thorin's grip, I heard him growl in my ear again, telling me to be still. His hand muffled my voice but I screamed in anger behind his warm palm. But when I shook my head from side to side, Thorin's hand slipped and he cursed under his breath. When he brought his hand to my mouth again, I sank my teeth into his hand.

"Let me go," I yelped, as Thorin was finally forced to let me go, blood seeping from where my teeth cut through his skin..

Below us, Bernd's head snapped towards our direction the second time. This time, I knew that he had heard something. As I turned to run towards the entrance, Thorin tried to grab me but he slipped. Surely Bernd would listen to me if I came willingly, I thought, ignoring the sound of Thorin cursing after me, intent only in convincing Bernd to leave everyone else alone.

I would force him to see reason. He'd let Jürgen go. He would also retract his answer to Lialam for my hand in marriage. He was, after all, still my brother, even if we were not of the same blood.

I only made it a few feet before Thorin grabbed me by the arm and yanked me back. We both slipped on the wet floor together, and I landed hard on my back, the breath knocked out of me, stars flashing in front of my eyes. Thorin covered my body with his, his one hand grabbing both my wrists and slamming them down onto the ground above my head. His other hand clamped down over my mouth again as we heard the sound of leaves crunching underfoot just outside the cave opening. Bernd and his men were close by.

Thorin's face was frozen in a grim expression, his eyes darkening as he turned his attention towards the sound. The vines over the cave entrance rustled, and I saw Thorin take a deep intake of breath as the sound of the men's voices outside drew closer.

When I dared try to say something, he looked at me angrily, his hand pressing harder over my mouth and this time I felt pain as his fingers dug into my cheek. It was enough for me to finally lay still.

As I gazed at Thorin's face so close to mine, I noticed the long thick lashes that framed his blue eyes, the regal curve of his nose, and the stern line of his mouth. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair, with the pair of cuffed braids on each side of his face, cascaded over my face.

Slowly my body slackened, my muscles no longer coiled to spring away from him for I couldn't. Thorin was on top of me, his weight making it difficult for me to breathe but as I continued to stare at him, I realized then that my inability to do so no longer had anything to do with him.

It was the closeness of our bodies. And it was the knowledge that for the first time in my life, no man or dwarf had ever been this close to me. The sight of him took my breath away and I no longer heard the sound of Bernd's voice outside the cave, nor the horses' hooves that neared the clearing below as more men appeared, calling for Bernd to return to the dwarves' encampment, where he was needed.

All I could see - and feel - was Thorin and the nearness of him. A raw masculinity emanated through his pores, and I suddenly felt my stomach clench, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

I forgot how long I lay there, even as Thorin adjusted himself over me, allowing me to breathe much easily now as he removed his hand from my mouth. But his thumb remained to caress my lips as his fingers cupped my face and he looked at me, the grim expression gone now, replaced by something else. Our breaths mingled in the narrow space between our faces long after the threat of Bernd and his men finding the cave was long gone. All I could do was stare at him, my eyes moving down his face as if memorizing the memory of his eyes, his nose, and his lips.

Before I knew it, Thorin's mouth descended on mine. He kissed my lips lightly at first, his mouth replacing the spot where his thumb had been and I closed my eyes as the sensations overwhelmed me then. Thorin's grip on my wrists loosened, drifting down to grasp my hair instead as his kiss deepened and I was left reeling in its intensity.

No one had ever told me how being kissed would feel like. And even if they had, I would never have believed them. Thorin's kiss made me weak, my belly knotting up, releasing a thousand butterflies fluttering within it. I found myself bringing my arms around him, my fingers running through his hair. When his tongue softly slipped between my lips, I parted them and let him caress the inside of my lips with his tongue, feeling his body respond to mine as he pulled me even closer to him.

Time stood still as we kissed. At that moment I no longer cared to tell Bernd everything I had wanted to tell him minutes earlier, my bravado forgotten. All I could think of was Thorin and the feel of his lips on mine, the fresh smell of thyme on his skin and hair, and that in this little cave, nothing else but he existed.

When Thorin finally pulled himself away, he was breathing hard, his eyes almost dazed as he looked at me. For a few minutes, we lay there silently, hearing only the sound of each others' breathing and feeling the beating of our hearts as we remained where we were.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, still breathless from his kiss.

"You're still as stubborn as I remember you," Thorin said. "I needed you to be quiet,"

Without saying another word, I pulled his head down towards me and kissed him again, wanting more of what he had offered me earlier. I felt his lips open as I did just as he did to me, letting my tongue explore the softness of his lips, and taste him.

I was suddenly bold, my fingers running through his hair, my other hand tracing the outline of his face, discovering him. When I finally let go, I was breathless again, and I moved away from him, realizing then that I was shaking. I sat up and peered at the clearing below, relieved to find it empty. Bernd and his men had not returned.

"Is it your habit to kiss women to silence them?" I asked, unable to look at his eyes.

"You could have given us away, Frigga," Thorin said as he brought his hand up where I could see the indentation of my teeth against his skin, blood still streaming from a deep cut. He frowned. "I couldn't risk having you discovered, not when Bernd was still outside the whole time, waiting for you to emerge after believing him gone."

"Are certain he was still outside?" I asked, realizing that I hadn't even realized that Bernd would have remained outside, waiting for me to emerge had I been alone.

"The years living in the land of men have dulled your senses, Frigga," he said wryly. "They were standing outside the whole time. I only stopped when I was certain they were gone."

Thorin got up from the floor and offered me his hand so he could help me up. This time I found that I could not look at him, my face burning as he gazed at me.

"Is that the only reason?" I dared to ask, wanting to know if there had truly been more to that kiss than he was willing to admit.

Thorin did not answer for a few seconds, but he nodded his head. "I needed you to be quiet. And it worked," he said and turned away.

I stared at him, trying hard to ignore the deep void that seemed to open up in my chest as Thorin kept his back to me. It hurt, I thought, this new feeling I felt deep inside me. The sudden exhilaration of his kiss suddenly shattering to the ground like broken glass.

"You're still as cold as I remember you," I said as I strode past Thorin towards the opening of the cave, glaring at him when he tried to grab me again. "Touch me again, Thorin, son of Thrain, and I will scream before you can get your hands on me again," I said as I made my way out of the cavern, not caring whether ivy clung to my hair. At that moment, I would have endured the ridicule of being Lialam's plaything than being with Thorin and his insensitivity. I had never been kissed before, it was true. But I also had never been made to feel as humiliated as I felt then.

I hated feeling the way I felt now, too confused at the many emotions that came up inside me. And as I let the confusion slowly settle, calming myself down with deep long breaths, I realized that I never hated anyone as much as I hated Thorin at that very minute - more than I hated Lialam.


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

When Dwalin returned two hours later, my heart sank to see that Clara was no longer with him. On Thorin's orders, Dwalin had taken Clara to the dwarf encampment, fearing that she'd be discovered if left with me, for it was difficult to conceal a horse more than having to hide oneself. I knew that had Clara been by the tree where I had left her that morning, Bernd would have discovered her immediately.

I wanted to get angry at Dwalin but I was more furious with Thorin, whom I now refused to speak to, even as he pretended to scout the area as I trudged along noisily through the brush. The last time I looked, Thorin was on the opposite side of the waterfall when Dwalin arrived.

"How far is the camp from here?" I asked.

"Not far," Dwalin replied. "Two hours on foot at the most, heading straight east, then make a sharp detour south of an abandoned tower before heading east again."

I nodded. I knew the tower that Dwalin meant. It had been an old watchtower long ago that had fallen in disrepair when a storm leveled the identical tower next to it. The main road wasn't too far from the lone tower, I thought, which meant that the dwarf camp was, as Dwalin stated, not far.

After leaving Thorin at the cave, I had gone to the larger cave where I had spent the night. I wanted to retrieve my sword and not be too dependent on Thorin should danger arise. My face was still burning from the humiliation that followed his kiss and I could not understand why he had done it. But I knew that as much as I could replay that moment again and again inside my head, it would not change anything.

I had concealed most of my belongings in a hole Jürgen had dug in the ground, safe from view should Bernd and his men have found the cave earlier. Nothing seemed disturbed as I went through the space, though I wondered if it was still safe to stay there for a second night. Maybe Thorin was right, I thought. Maybe I did need to stay in the dwarf encampment from here on.

Dwalin led me back to the cave where I had just retrieved my sword, making sure that it was as concealed as it could be, with no traces of horse tracks anywhere. He carried a sack containing some food with him and he set it on the ground along with the rest of the supplies he had retrieved from Clara's saddle bags. He had also brought another blanket, which he had rolled and placed over everything else. All of these he slipped into the carefully arranged pit in the ground, and covered it with carefully arranged branches and leaves.

"Thorin tells me that you prefer to sleep here rather than at the camp," Dwalin said. "It is no longer safe to stay here."

I shook my head. "I will be safe here, Dwalin. It is well hidden and no one will find me."

Dwalin's face clouded, as if he wanted to say more, but he didn't.

"Is my mother well?" I asked and Dwalin looked away, avoiding my eyes. "Please answer me honestly, Dwalin."

Dwalin paused, his eyes glancing momentarily towards something behind me and I knew then that Thorin was standing by the cave entrance.

"I will let Thorin tell you how your mother fares," Dwalin said as he left the cavern, but not before stopping to whisper something to Thorin. I watched Thorin's face grow dark, before Dwalin finally left and he turned to look at me.

"Come, Frigga," Thorin said. "I will take you to see your mother."

Just as Dwalin described, the way to the dwarf encampment was eastward. We walked past giant trees that concealed the sky, and streams that cut almost haphazardly through trails, till we reached the two watchtowers, one which was nothing but a pile of stones on the forest floor.

"Who would build watch towers in the middle of nowhere?" Thorin asked as he offered his hand towards me, helping me navigate a high step between two moss and weed-covered rocks that blocked our way. As I took his hand, I found myself having to look at his face, seeing the softness in his eyes once more.

Out of spite I did not wish to answer Thorin, but Dwalin cocked his head towards me, eager to listen to an answer. After all, I hadn't spoken the entire time we'd started our journey and the tension between Thorin and I was so thick, Dwalin could have cut through it with his axes.

"Master Lialam's grandfather built it," I replied, and both men turned to look at me, frowning. "When he first built the town, he wanted it fortified by from whatever lurked in the forest. He thought that goblins lived underneath, but people tell me that he simply was mad."

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged glances as I continued.

"So he built these two watchtowers. Why not just one when you can build two?" I chuckled. "There was supposed to be another built on the other side of the road, but a storm destroyed one of the first two towers here, killing one of his sons who had chosen to guard that night."

"Did they ever find any goblins?" Dwalin asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes people say goblins lurk in the forest just north of us, and also if you go deeper within. They prey on traveling caravans, like they did with the caravan my parents were on."

As I said this I turned away, realizing that I was referring to the last time Jerrel and Tadd were seen alive. Nine of them had wanted to take the Old Forest Road, but Lialam had reassured them that it was safe, that he himself had journeyed through it with no danger having befallen him.

"The _Men-i-Naugrim_ is a dangerous road now," Thorin said. "Goblins have been known to prey on unsuspecting travelers. But there is no other way from the west through the forest, unless you travel north around it — or south, which would take one too far."

"Right," I agreed, recognizing the words Thorin used which meant the Dwarf Road. "Goblins attacked the traveling party of Jerrel and Tadd, and Nyssa and Ivan - Jürgen's wife and son. They did not survive."

A loud shriek filled the air and we all looked up, startled, as a bird flew over us, rustling the leaves in the trees above us as it settled on a branch with its prey in its claws. I looked away, praying that we would talk no more about _Men-i-Naugrim_, though I knew from stories that dwarves, elves and men used it to transport goods between their kingdoms and towns till recently, when it was deemed much too dangerous.

A dip appeared on the path before us and Dwalin jumped down first, followed by Thorin. But something caught Dwalin's eye and he motioned for Thorin to come closer towards a rotted tree blocking the path as I started to make my way down the embankment by first sitting down on the ground, my feet danging.

But before I could leap down to the ground, Thorin returned to grasp me by the waist and hoisted me down. For a brief moment, our eyes met as Thorin continued to hold me, not yet letting me go, and I found myself holding my breath as I lost myself in the blue of his eyes.

"You will stay in the camp tonight, where it is safer," Thorin said.

"But-"

"Do not argue with me anymore, woman," he said in a low voice before turning away and joining Dwalin who had gone ahead. As I followed Thorin, I glanced at the tree trunk, growing cold as I saw the shaft of a blackened arrow emerging from its bark.

Thorin called my name once and I was running to catch up with them as fast as I could. Jürgen had brought home an arrow just like it when he returned from that last journey that claimed the lives of Jerrel and Tad, I thought. A goblin arrow.

By the time we arrived at the edge of the forest, it was mid-afternoon and I knew that Thorin was right about having me stay at the camp. There was no way I could make it back before nightfall, not after what we'd all seen at the embankment. Already the air had started to turn cool and a breeze blew in from the west, ruffling Thorin's hair as he stood in front of me.

The guards that Lialam had assigned to watch the dwarves were stationed just north of the camp. There were three of them, and they appeared bored as they sat beneath the shade of an outcropping of rocks along a high hill overlooking the plains.

Just seeing the camp so close made my body tremble with excitement and thinking that I was cold, Thorin removed his coat and draped it over my shoulders. The thought of seeing my mother was too much to even imagine and I leaned against the nearest tree, fearing that my knees would give way beneath me.

"Are you alright?" Thorin asked, an expression of worry crossing his face.

"I'm fine," I replied. "I just never thought I'd see my mother again. I still remember the songs she sang to me every night. I never forgot them."

"And that's how you retained the ancient language," Thorin mused, smiling faintly.

Dwalin suggested that he go ahead while Thorin and I waited till dwarves working from neighboring towns would begin coming home. They usually traveled in large groups, and thus it would be easier to conceal me, he said.

As I watched Dwalin leave, I wished that we all could have gone with him, but knew that he was right. I couldn't risk being discovered right now, not when the prospect of seeing my mother for the first time in years was almost a reality.

I shrugged off Thorin's coat and handed it to him. I followed him as he walked back into the forest, finding a flat spot to sit on and lay his coat down on the ground.

"So that's how it's gotten so dirty," I smiled, taking the coat off the ground and handed it back to him, sitting down on the grass and not caring if I got my skirt dirty. I remembered that I still wore my trousers and as I hiked my skirts up, Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"Did you remember that from Erebor?" He asked.

"Remember what?"

"That our women dress like men when we travel," he said.

I shook my head. "I made the trousers so it would be much easier for me to ride horses and learn sword fighting with Jürgen," I said. "Let's just say that I've had a few mishaps in the past."

Thorin smiled and it was nice to hear him do so. It lit up his face, removing the weight of responsibility that seemed to have aged him overnight. I knew that Thorin was only two years older than me but already, Smaug's destruction of Erebor and its people had aged him considerably. As a prince, he would have had few responsibilities of ruling a people, as his grandfather, Thror, claimed that right.

"Do not be alarmed by what you will see in the camp," Thorin said. "Conditions are not the best, and I'm afraid that it might distress you. We are low on food and supplies that we need to get started on our journey again, and we might need to leave sooner than we planned."

"Don't worry about impressing me with camp conditions, Thorin," I said. "I just want to see my mother again."

"And you shall," Thorin replied.

We did not talk much after that. Instead, we sat and waited till we heard the sound of dwarves traveling along the road from the south, returning to the camp. With another group of dwarves coming home from the north, the three men that had been tasked with looking for me could do nothing but stand and watch from astride their horses.

The moment Thorin saw an opportunity, having seen that the men's attention was on the group from the north, we ran towards a large group of dwarves traveling along the road. If the dwarves were surprised to see Thorin and a beardless woman joining in the midst of them, they did not show it. Their faces remained grim and as we walked with them, I felt the sense of loss of home and loved ones that permeated through their very skins.

Most of them had come from the neighboring towns to the east, where there was more work for them in metalsmithing and stonemasonry. They looked tired, their clothes covered in dust and dirt, their eyes barely even noticing me as I felt myself pulled along the throng through the middle of the camp.

From that point on, they split up, heading to their respective tents. In front of a main tent, food was being prepared by dwarf-women who looked up as I walked past, their eyes narrowing as they seemed to have noted my lack of facial hair. I brought my hand to face, ashamed, but Thorin only muttered something about not falling behind.

A dwarf with long black hair combed back behind his head met Thorin as he led me to a tent that was set next to the largest one in the camp, one that bore the crest of the House of Durin. He wore a burgundy coat over a heavily embroidered inner tunic that told me that he was a counselor, just like my father had been. Though his clothes bore the wear and tear of travel, he looked as regal as he would have appeared before Smaug came to Erebor.

"This is Balin, son of Fundin," Thorin said as Balin bowed his head slightly towards me.

"You must be Frigga, daughter of Migan and Lyssan. I recognized you because you have your mother's eyes, and your scar," he said as I brought my hand to cover the side of my face, grateful that the scar was closer to my ear and did not mar my face completely. "But don't be ashamed, child. There are many here with worst scars than that, scars that cannot be seen with the naked eye."

I bent my head, even more ashamed for my vanity. I wondered what Thorin had told them about the dwarf woman living in the town of men, shaving the beard that would have marked her as a dwarf just to fit in and worse, not even knowing what she truly was.

"How is she?" Thorin asked Balin, his forehead furrowing.

Balin did not answer. Instead he turned to me and asked me to follow him, leading me into the tent where a woman lay on a bed made from hay over which layers of thick cloth had been laid over.

Four dwarve-women surrounded her, but the moment Balin cleared his throat, they parted to allow me to walk through as Balin remained by the door. I realized then that all of them were crying.

My knees gave way beneath me and I found myself kneeling on the floor as one by one, the dwarves left us alone. Through my tears, I looked at my mother as I grabbed her hand between mine and brought it to my lips.

I did not need anyone to tell me how she was doing. For I saw it in her sunken eyes as she stared at me, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly, her fingers opening to caress my cheek as she struggled to smile.

My mother was dying.


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

My mother had been deep inside Erebor when Smaug routed the halls, leaving devastation and death in his wake. What had saved my mother was seeing King Thror and his son, Prince Thrain run past the room where she had been teaching the children, keeping them all together even as she was struggling to breathe, Smaug's sulfuric breath clogging her lungs. But she kept herself low and taking the children with her, followed them, even as her eyes stung and every breath she took was like inhaling fire.

Father had made it alive, too, she said. But he succumbed from his injuries two moons later, dying in his sleep, as had all the children who had escaped with her. Smaug's breath had burned their lungs.

They could have gone to the Iron Hills like many of the dwarves she knew. Instead she and father wanted to journey south with the king, not just out of loyalty to him, she said, but for the hope that maybe they would find themselves in the towns where merchants had claimed to have seen a dwarf child named Aleana years earlier.

By this time, I no longer had any more tears to shed, the coverlet over Lyssan's frail form soaked from my tears. I treasured every second her hand touched my face, exploring its contours, her fingers tracing the outline of my nose and my lips, even my eyelashes, and finally my scar. Nothing in my past with Jerrel and Tadd, no matter how loving they had been towards me, could ever make up for the years I'd missed with my real parents.

They'd taken that away from me.

I could feel the anger slowly build up inside of me, the thought that my mother was slipping away just as I was reunited with her. Our time together was much too brief. The pain was unbearable, as if someone had wrenched my heart from my chest and cut it to pieces. I could not leave her now, not even when one of the dwarf women came to tell me that Lyssan was weak, that she needed to rest.

And when I shook my head, I heard Thorin's voice behind me telling her to leave me alone with my mother, that I could spend as long as I wanted next to her. I wanted to thank him for interceding on my behalf, but when I turned to look towards the door, he had gone along with them.

"Did they treat you well?" My mother asked. Her voice was hoarse and already I knew that she had spoken too much since I'd arrived. The women were right about letting her rest, I thought, as I nodded.

"Good," she said, turning away from me to look at the forest green walls of her tent. A breeze blew outside, ruffling the fabric. "Did the prince tell you that we searched for you for so many years? We never gave up, _lukhudel_," she said. "Please never forget that."

"He told me," I replied. "Hush, mother, and do not speak. You need to rest."

"One day a merchant came to the Great Hall and said that he had seen a dwarf child in a town of men, and that she had a scar on her face," mother continued. "We sent so many dwarves to find you, but they never did. I did not care of all the jewels we paid those who had told us again and again about a dwarf-child named Aleana. Men from the south."

As she spoke, I frowned. Twice, Lialam had sent Jerrel and I away to live with his brother northeast of Greenbanü, where Jerrel found herself inundated by so much work she looked forward to the summons. I wondered if Lialam himself had collected the reward for the information, as his wealth only continued to grow with each of our visits to his brother. But then, it didn't matter now.

"I'm here now, mother," I said. "I'm never leaving you."

Lyssan smiled weakly as I ran my hand along her face, my fingers running through her smooth beard. It was dark as night, just as mine would have been had I not pulled it from its roots for the last few years and I wondered if my beard would ever grow as lush as hers did. It grew alongside her jaw, combed neatly by the women who tended to her, who hovered just outside the tent for I could hear their voices still.

I sat next to her bed, ignoring the cramp in my legs as I watched her sleep. I wanted to memorize every inch of her face and stamp the vision of her inside my mind forever. She wheezed when she breathed, every intake of breath a struggle.

Hours later, she awoke with a start, as if something had stopped her from breathing and the lack of air forced her from her slumber. Lyssan saw me and smiled, though it took much effort to do so.

"Do you remember the songs I used to sing for you?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper now, and I nodded.

"I never forgot them," I replied. It was how I remembered our language, I thought now, grateful that Jerrel and Tadd never stopped me from singing them. Instead, they'd written it down, phonetically learning it as well.

"Will you sing to me then?" She asked as she grimaced, her body wracked in a coughing fit as I held her in my arms.

It took me a few moments to get started, but when I did, the songs came as if I'd been singing them for as long as I could remember. And as the songs came, so did the memories.

Seeing my mother's face, her dark lashes framing sky blue eyes that still glowed with life brought me back to Erebor. I saw its majestic halls, its high ceilings and pillars of exquisitely carved and ornamented rock, hewn from deep within the mountain. Stairways that went across one end of the mountain to the other, and yet more making their way down, deeper into the depths of its never-ending treasure trove of emeralds, diamonds, rubies and sapphires.

I saw myself running through its grand halls, laughing as I slipped between the legs of much older dwarves to my left and right, not hearing the calls for me to stop. For I was too young to care, too precocious to stop and listen to anyone much older than me. Behind me an older boy in royal blue robes was trying to catch me, calling out my name. He was joined by another boy, younger than him before a few more children followed suit, thinking it was probably all a game.

But I didn't hear him. I was too fast. After all, I was after something I had seen from the high balcony, a dragon kite that flew high above the sky just minutes earlier. But its string was caught in the branches of an oak tree, tangled hopelessly among its leaves.

"It's mine!" I had cried then. "The dragon is mine."

I had been in the nursery with the other children when I saw it, cut loose from someone's grip below the mountain. And as it flew across the sky, I leapt and ran out the door before anyone could stop me.

I sneaked into the Queen's private garden, relieved to see it empty for everyone was at the Great Hall with the King. I looked up and saw the kite, flapping in the wind, awaiting its release from the branches that snagged its string. I began to climb, my fingers grabbing hold of the smallest indentations in the wood that it could find.

I had climbed this very same tree before when the children and I played our hiding game, and no one had been able to find me. The rough bark scratched my skin but I did not care. I simply wanted that kite, not caring whose it was for it was mine now. After all, it was caught in the branches of one of the king's trees. It belonged to whoever could get to it.

My slipper slipped off my foot and fell to the ground below. I heard a collective gasp and I looked down. Dwarves were gathered below me but I kept climbing. I was so close.

"Frigga!" Thorin shouted, his voice much deeper than I remembered for it had begun to change a few summers earlier. I remembered now that he was much older than I first thought him to be days earlier, when he told me atop that hill that he knew me. I remembered how I used to call him 'my prince,' and how he'd laugh each time I said it. For what else could he do when a five-year old girl told him that one day she was going to make him hers? I was too young to know then what I was saying.

Thorin called my name again, this time the anger in his voice unmistakable. He stood below me and I realized then just how high I had climbed. Other voices joined his and I saw my mother, her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. There was Frerin, Thorin's brother, and Dis, his sister as well. But I was so close, I thought, leaning against the branch and reaching out for the kite that fluttered in the breeze. My fingers touched the crisp paper, but the breeze blew it away from me.

Thorin began to climb, his hands grabbing hold of branches much faster than I had. Just as he almost reached me, I grabbed the kite and laughed, triumphant.

"I got it, Prince Thorin! The kite is mine!" I turned to look at him, holding the kite up in my hand, even though the branches tore through its colorful paper. The branch beneath my feet swayed and creaked.

"Reach for my hand, Frigga," Thorin said as he reached out for me carefully, his other hand holding on to a sturdier branch above him. His deep blue eyes pinned mine with an intensity I had not seen before.

"This is no longer a game," he whispered. I saw fear on his face then, but I was too happy, much too young to recognize the danger he saw. I laughed again.

"But I got the dragon," I said excitedly as I let go of my other hand to reach for him just as the branch that held me snapped in two.

* * *

Mother died just as the skies grew darkest to welcome the dawn. She took her last laboring breath at the same time when Thorin and the rest of the dwarf-men began their journey to Fennhill for a few days' work in exchange for much-needed food and supplies.

I had not slept all night as I held her hand, listening to her breathing grow more faint with each passing rise and fall of her chest. I wanted to rail at the world and scream till my voice grew hoarse knowing that it would not have done me any good. It would not have changed anything.

When the women tending to her urged me to step aside so they could wash her body and dress her according to the customs they knew more than I, I asked them to show me how so I could do it myself. I was not about to let go of my mother just when I had been reunited with her after all this time.

In the end, a dwarf named Arna came into the tent, and as I looked at her face, I recognized her as my mother's dear old friend and fellow scribe. She was one face I immediately recognized, now that being among my own people made the memories easier to reveal themselves to me.

Together we did the rituals according to our people, with Arna whispering to me whatever it was I needed to do, or say, to ease mother's passing from this world to the next.

Hours later, when mother's body was finally prepared and ready, the remaining dwarves in the camp laid her to rest in a cairn atop a hill. Had we been inside Erebor, mother would have been buried deep in the Halls of the Dead where I and my children, should I have any, visit her and honor her spirit. But here, I only hoped that Mahal would find her in the middle of the Wilderlands, and guide her back safely.

I was grateful that Lialam's men, even though they eventually recognized me from behind my cloak and hood, kept back when they realized who it was I had just lost. They stood by the same boulder where I saw them yesterday, their heads bowed down for a moment. I wanted to believe that they mourned along with me, though something told me that everything between us had changed the moment I was revealed to be a dwarf — or specifically, Lialam's 'dwarf-bride.'

And as soon as the ceremony was over, as the dwarves led me deep in the midst of the encampment to shield me in case the men would charge and take me by force, one of the men sped away towards the town of Greenbanü. My heart sank. They would now know where I was, I thought, as I thanked Arna and the rest of the dwarf-women for their help.

I did not have to wait long. The sun was high up in the sky still and I knew I had to do it soon. With my sword safely sheathed and hidden beneath a deep blue cloak I had traded with another dwarf, I waited till two groups left the encampment — one to the north and other towards the direction of the forest to gather berries.

As their watchful eyes followed the group headed northwards to gather water, the same group that included a dwarf wearing the very same cloak I had worn earlier, I slipped quietly into the forest and disappeared from view. Arna had tried to talk me out of it, but there was nothing in the camp now that would make me stay. Not even Thorin.

Besides, I was not about to be a burden to the dwarves, not now that Lialam knew I was hiding among them.

This time, I was on my own.


End file.
